Two babes were born in the self-same town,
On the ve­ry same bright day,
They laughed and cried in their mo­thers’ arms,
In the ve­ry self-same way;
And both seemed pure and in­no­cent,
As fall­ing flakes of snow;
But one of them lived in a ter­raced house,
And one in the street be­low.

Two child­ren played in the self-same town,
And the child­ren both were fair,
But one had curls brushed smooth and round,
The other had tan­gled hair.
The child­ren both grew up apace,
As oth­er child­ren grow;
But one of them lived in a ter­raced house,
And one in the street be­low.

Two maid­ens wrought in the self-same town,
And one was wedd­ed and loved,
The oth­er one saw through the cur­tains’ part,
The world where her sis­ter moved;
And one was a smil­ing hap­py bride;
The oth­er knew care and woe;
For one of them lived in a ter­raced house,
And one in the street be­low.

Two wo­men lay dead in the self-same town,
And one had ten­der care;
The oth­er was left to die alone,
On her pal­let so thin and bare;
The one had ma­ny to mourn her loss,
For the oth­er few tears would flow;
For one had lived in a ter­raced house,
And one in the street be­low.

If Christ who died for the rich and poor,
In won­drous ho­ly love,
Took both of the sis­ters in His arms,
And car­ried them home above;
Then all the dif­fer­ence van­ished quite,
For in Hea­ven none would know
Which one of them lived in a ter­raced house,
And which in street be­low.